


Always In My Head

by howlingautumn (orphan_account)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Do Not Separate The Heirs Of Durin, F/M, Female Bilbo, Multi, Thorin-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/howlingautumn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He isn't sure if he believes in past lives or destiny or . . . this. He does know that Eru has a plan. </p><p>And sometimes, he wishes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Raven

**Author's Note:**

> Formerly under the pseud themoonyautumn.

_He has said it before. He feels like an ouroboros, a dragon cursed to eat his own tail again, and again, and again._

_Though, he feels like this cannot be true. All things happen for some reason, good or bad or the area in between. They called him Durin the Deathless once. And again, he cannot be sure whether Durin is he or Durin is his forefather, the chosen of the dwarves to rule. He cannot be sure of anything at the moment. So instead of being sure he waits in the empty hall._

_And so, he waits._

 

It is a joyous day in Erebor. 

There are firecrackers and song and dance and feasts. King Bard of Dale is called to the mountain, as are his children, and his closest friends. The amount of clamor and excitement inside the Mountain is only designated for one such occasion: birth. To be more specific, royal birth. Line of Durin birth. Within the hour, The King Under the Mountain, Kili and his Queen, the Silvan Elf, Tauriel, have sent word by raven and horseback and every other mean to invite their friends, family, guests, and anyone worth celebrating with to the celebration of the century. The Heirs of Erebor are here. And there is much to be thankful for. 

The tiny heirs are currently being held by their mother. Their blessing ceremonies will of course come later, once the kingdom calms down enough to let them actually be seen by the public eye. King Kili is crying, still, and Dwalin will never admit it, but as acting grandfather, he is too. The twins, one with a shock of raven hair that seems to reflect every other color against the light, and the dark blonde with smooth, silky hair that already covers his crown, have yet to be named. Queen Tauriel smiles against her sleeve, "Kili, please, I am fine. Come and see your children." 

The dark haired dwarf breaks into his normal, if not happier, smile and kisses his wife first, his babies next, "What shall we call them, my Queen?" He bites his tongue, though, when the blonde yawns and all that he sees is his brother. He squeezes his eyes tight, again, when the little raven gives a small cough and Kili hears Uncle Thorin and Father and please, please, don't go. His One sees this, she does, and she sees how Kili's sadness does not taint his joy, only deepens it. "I think . . . that you will decide. We need a Thorin III and a Fili II, do we not?"

The King, the brother and the nephew, laughs, "Yes, I suppose we do." 

And so the babes are named. And so, they celebrate. 

 

_"Do you think we could have been friends, in another life?"_

_"I don't believe in other lives."_

_"You used too."_

 

Thorin, according to his mother, is about the age equivalent of a six year old Man child. He only ponders this for a moment, wondering why exactly the boys and girls in the village of Men stop to stare, smile, and wave at their family. It is probably because they are the same age. His brother, Fre-Fili, Fili would have gone ahead to make friends with them, if he wasn't asleep in their father's lap. The Crown Prince lets his head loll against his mother's shoulder and falls asleep dreaming of the Woodland Realm. 

They arrive, finally, and Thorin is still very sleepy. He wants to complain but doesn't. That is Fili's job. "Mama," he says, " _Naneth,_ why can't I sleep some more?" His mother, the elf, he thinks, with some weird feeling coiling in his gut, kisses his face and says, "My stars, we are once again at my homeland, Greenwood. We are here to meet the King and my friend, Prince Legolas." 

Thorin likes that name. It seems . . . trustworthy. As his mother hands him to his father, Thorin also thinks, that this time around, he should know. 

  _Frerin tackles Thorin to the ground, "Yield, brother!"_

_He breaks free of Fre's hold and yells back, "Just because you are the youngest does not mean I will spare my wrath!"_

_They both laugh and laugh and laugh._

 


	2. I Should Have Known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is only raining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formerly under themoonyautumn. Comment, if you wish.

_He hears the mountains call his name._

_He turns toward them, lets the wind whip through his hair and nearly lift him off the ground. He turns back to where he was headed, knowing that wherever he goes, trouble will follow._

_It starts to rain then, like some sort of cosmic omen, and he knows that they will be searching him out soon._

_The mountains call grows fainter the closer he gets. Still, in the quiet of the night he hears them say,_

_" **Thorin, Thorin, Thorin, the east wind calls you home.** "_

_It is not the first time they have said this. He is sure it won't be the last._

 

He and his brother are taller than any dwarf since Durin. Even if they are the spitting image of their predecessors, strangely so, when he is told a face like his could command the stars. Their ears are barely pointed, they are tall like elves, and they look like dwarves, besides the fact that their beards had taken many years to fill in. They are sitting on their father's sides by the throne. 

And he is remembering. 

Thorin remembers sitting on this side of the throne years before. With a mightily less affectionate father and grandfather and a brother with golden hair barely containing his laughter. He voices none of these thoughts, for he fears that if he did he would be called  _a crazed madman with the ramblings of gold-sickness._ Some days, on days that breakfast is made by Bombur and he can hear Nori whisper secrets into Kili's, his nephew, no his father's ear and Balin pats his shoulder in passing he wants to shake them and he wants to grab Fili and yell until Fili, his Fili, can hear him and demand, "You remember don't you Fili, please tell me you remember. Please Fili." But, he doesn't, he just shakes out his braids and lets his parents hug and kiss him and lets Fili win sometimes when they spar. His parents are affectionate, the most they have ever been, since, since, since, the beginning. They baby him the most, surprisingly, even if he is the older twin by thirteen seconds. 

He remembers this as his father squeezes his hand and tells him that they are done for the day. Just as a wave of, "Please tell me you remember. You remember don't you?" hits him square in the chest and he forces out a wry smile and thanks the King, King Kili. 

Prince Thorin, later, knows that he really wants to say, "Do you remember me?"

 

_The halfling is in Greenwood and his father bounces him running toward the Burglar. Thorin is young, much too young to realize that knowing who Bluebell Baggins is would be impossible. His father actually puts him down to grab the hobbit and swing her around in a circle. She looks virtually unchanged, just a little more ruffled along her coat line. The prince already looks brooding and his expression goes more so as he sees his brother laughing in his mother's arms._

_Blue laughs and squeezes Kili tight, "My boy, it has been too long! I am so glad to see you! And Tauriel, you are looking radiant, who is that handsome lad in your arms?" Thorin's frown deepens and he peeks out from behind his father's legs. "Oh, and this handsome lad."_

_King Kili chuckles and swings Thorin back into his arms, taking a completely indulgent tone,"The Crown Princes, The Twins of Erebor, Thorin III and Fili II!"_

_The Burglar's amber eyes shine in the sunlight, "I knew that you had chosen those names, but I regret I am only seeing them now. They are quite . . . striking, aren't they?"_

_Thorin huffs into his father's coat and Kili just laughs, "This little one has Uncle's brood down perfectly! It is uncanny Blue, really!"_

_Behind him, Fili pesters their mother until she sets him on the ground, standing. His father does the same. And both turn to the Burglar. "Hello," she says, smiling._

_Thorin, in an act so unlike himself, starts to cry and cry and cry. While his brother just laughs and laughs and laughs._

_Neither stop until she picks them up._

 

Thorin, not yet called Oakenshield, watches as his grandfather makes the workmen carve Durin the Deathless into a mural inside his bedchamber. It is a little frightening to say the least. The portrait is of Mahal and his hammer about to strike the Durin out of existence until the heavens call for him not to. And Eru breathes life into stone. "Grandfather," he says quietly, "why do I get Durin's mural, why not Adad?"

Thror whirls around and sticks his very ringed finger into his grandson's face, "Do not ask questions you do not want to know the answer too!" Thorin will bear the mark of the King's ring on his cheekbone until weeks after the gash heals. 

That night, he cries himself to sleep beside the picture, and pretends he doesn't remember. 

 

_"You will be called Deathless," they say._

_"Why me?" he asks, so scared of what and them and it he can scarcely breathe._

_"You know why," is the only answer he receives for a long while._

 

And so, he waits. 


	3. This Is The End, Perhaps.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end. Perhaps.

_Her tears drip onto his forehead and she gasps out her apologies._

_He licks his lips and shakes his head almost imperceptibly._

_She kisses his hair and cheeks and beard and finally, mouth. It is a simple kiss, full of chapped lips and a hint of teeth and desperation._

_Thorin Oakenshield wakes gasping and with wetness seeped into his hair, it takes him minutes to realize, that he had been crying in his sleep. And it takes him years, years to forget the dream._

_And he wonders, sometimes, who had been dying._

 

Thorin Oakenshield rolls his eyes so far upward that he expects them to stay that way. The Burglar elbows him in the side so hard that he has to cough. 

"I have heirs," he says. "Why must I suffer through marriage proposals?"

She smiles, Blue, and says, "Who knows, perhaps you will find love. Right, Thorin?"

The dwarves in the vicinity turn to look at him, look at them, and Dwalin sneaks an incredulous look from behind her shoulder. He swallows, hard, and looks at her, "I . . ." his usual wryness fights to take over. " . . . I have already found love."

The halfling's face breaks, almost, "Ah, well . . . that changes things, doesn't it?"

 _Not really,_ thinks Thorin,  _you and I, we never change._  

Instead he says, "I've waited for you . . . for a very long time, Bluebell Baggins, a very long time." 

And so, it goes. 


End file.
